For The Record

18

I think I've always turned a blind eye to Ariel's loneliness. After all, it's palpable. But I don't want to feel it on my skin or threaded through my capillaries, playing a cruel game of tug of war on my heart. I don’t want to admit that somewhere, deep inside, Skylar took a knife and tore through us both.

How is it that we're the same?

Sighing, I traipse across the vast wooden surface—engraved with grooves deep enough to trip up my wandering feet—and collapse right in his line of sight.

The rim of his plate connects with the very line of my shoulder blades.

An earth-shattering clanging sound breaks the silence, sending abrasive, explosive ripples through my thin, winged bones, and I throw myself forward in an attempt not to be vibrated out of existence.

"Sorry, sorry!"

"What the hell, Ariel?"

"I really didn't mean it, I promise." He sounds so timid. So afraid.

As if I wasn't just at his mercy a few moments before he set me on the table.

As if it's not always that way.

"That could have hurt me," I snarl, words knife-edged despite glimpsing the prongs of the fallen fork protruding from over the edge of the plate.

"I'm really sorry... I was—I mean, you caught me by surprise. I didn't expect you to sit right there. You don’t normally like to—you know..."

His hands have fallen to his sides. The sunny-side-up eggs he'd just about seared into are already cooling on the plate, losing their appeal as time goes on.

"Whatever." I march forward and boost myself onto the flat edge of the plate, treating it like a bench. A few centimetres shorter and my feet would barely brush the tabletop. below me. "Hurry up and eat."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll step all over your food," I threaten, though I can barely stomach looking at it. Knowing he savours the taste of the yolk the same way he savoured the taste of my skin against his tongue.

"Um. Okay."

I force myself to watch as Ariel lifts a forkful of egg white to his mouth. I mentally compare myself; a hunk the size of my torso.

We maintain eye-contact, his fork rising higher and higher, up until he screws his eyes shut and shoves the utensil into his mouth, with all the reluctance of a man being forcefed rat poison.

My own stomach churns miserably, and my body winces in spite of itself. God. God. God.

"This is torture," he exhales, setting the fork down and burying his head in his hands. "What are you doing, little one? You watching like that—with that expression on your face—"

My expression is none of his concern, goddammit.

"I was testing something."

What? The limits of my own morbid curiosity? My stomach, perhaps? It's not like he's going to eat me.

But the chill persists. "You should finish your breakfast."

"I can't," he moans. "I'm not even hu—"

A volcanic growl erupts from his stomach, interrupting his half-baked lie.

"I did warn you," I murmur, swallowing a dry heave that may as well be fatal, and stumbling onto the plate.

As I approach the sliver of yolk, metal flanks my either side, trapping me in between.

In a split-second decision, I duck and roll, only allowing myself a single glance up to assess the situation.

The knife and fork are still.

And Ariel's looking right at me.

"What are you doing..." he whispers, in a voice tainted with shocked amusement, a giggle twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Yolk's extra orangey today," As if deliberately mistaking me for his breakfast is some hilarious joke to him.

Although, I guess in some way, I brought this upon myself.

Slumping, I allow the fork—a different one to before—to slide underneath my limp torso. A small nudge from the flat of the knife keeps me balanced on the arm-width prongs on my entire journey to face-level with Ariel.

"You're not protesting," he observes, keeping his hand desperately still. Ariel's reflexes are quick, which is good, because otherwise a fall from this height would be lethal. "I don't understand you, little one. Explain. Please."

"Because every time I want to trust you, something new surfaces. And—it makes me wonder...what you really got out of Skylar. What you're really receiving in this deal. I mean—"

"Oh." A breath washes across my back. I tense as something warm and plush presses into my spine, and lifts again almost immediately. "I'm sorry you can't trust me. I thought... no. Never mind."

I won't push it out of him.

If I were Ariel, I don't think I'd want to speak either.

"It's not like the stories, right? I mean, you eat normal food, so this isn't like...um. Yeah."

"Of course not! I could never!" he insists, eyes glittering and painfully earnest. "It's just... a taste preference. Like a favourite f—um, flavour that I can't allow myself to have. And I don't—I would never—not without your permission—but sometimes it's... harder. To resist."

"Of course it is," I mutter. Was it really worth running away from my abusive mother to be at the mercy of a giant who knew Skylar and thinks I taste good?

God. The thought will never not make me want to choke, bite my tongue, and hurl simultaneously.

Not that I'd ever let him serve me for—

"Are you craving right now?"

"Don't be silly, little one!" Shocked, Ariel hurriedly lowers his lips to my head for another apologetic kiss, like he's desperate to prove something. "I swear I would never put you in this position. This only happened because it was meant to be a silly joke."

"Hilarious," I huff, flipping onto my back so my vision of him reverses. "And what if you were angry? Like yesterday?"

"Never." He presses his lips together firmly, and in one solid motion, swipes me from the fork and cradles me in the palm of his hand. "I never want to make you feel unsafe. Or like you have to run away from me. I would be happy if I could just hold you like this forever."

"Yeah?" I stretch out across his palm, slinging an arm around the base of his thumb. The large digit bends to softly pet at my hair wherever it can reach. "I bet Skylar was real afraid of being held."

Closing his eyes, Ariel shakes his head. "Actually, she enjoyed it. I can't remember her ever being fearful. You weren't the first. Or the easiest."

Or the favourite. Like me, he's still hung up on a girl who isn't here anymore.

.

[a/n] i am so sorry HSKFHF this has been in my drafts since like . august ? and i forgot abt it so we're here now anyways i don't have anything written for next chap but please please pretty pls comment and vote that would be neat 🥺